^S 3537 

.T47 K5 

1900 



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LIBRA^n)^NGRESS. 

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C'liap Co]m1o-ht ,\o 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



88 i 42 

ji. >t.t'Hry of Conviresa 
I "'-'■• CuP(£S RErElVFD 

' DEC 141900 
SUJ'fi:, COPY 

\)«tiivui»d to 

OKOER OiVISION i 



COr*VRIGfHTKr> 
NINETEEN HUNDRED 




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THE KING AND THE HARPER 

Together with 

Other Poems by George W. Stevens. 

Made into a book by 

The Cromelithe Press at Toledo, Ohio, 

in this Our Lord's Year, 

Nineteen Hundred. 



Sometimes we want to express a thing very badly 

—and we do. 



I dedicate this book to my mother who thinks 
everything I write is good. 

I publish it because I want to. 




GUTHRUM'S NIGHTINGALE 



THE KING AND 
THE HARPER J- 



I 



OBLES, ladies, knights and dames, 
Minstrels with their songs and games. 
Modest traders with their wares. 
Monks and gray robed friars 
with prayers. 
Beggars, squires and palmers, all. 
Waked the Abby's timbered hall, 
Til the seneschal with rod 
Gave the floor a mighty prod, 
"List ye all, both great and smale, 
Comes now Guthrum's Nightingale; 
Minstrel to the Danish chief, 
Wandered from his native heath.'' 
Bowed the minstrel in good grace, 



Pendent lunii» liis harp in place, 

lair his ruFF and tawny skirt. 

Seemly was his waist bei^irt; 

Capon grease well kenibed his locks. 

Sooted pnnips, red nether socks, 

lie a comely lad and Fair, 

laced the two score Saxons there. 

4^ fc^ %^ k^ 

As he played, a silence fell. 
Harp and sini,»er ^^()^e a spell. 
Heard they then the Northland breeze 
Sweep the old kinijs o'er the seas. 
Heard they d> ini» Lodbrock's soni» 
As it firi^d the Hanish Throng, 
Heard they melody and rhyme. 
Sire to son from Odin's time, 
Tho' the Abbot bellowed: ^Mlold! 
Harper dnrst thou be so bold?" 
Still the lad held to the strain. 



10 



Bolder sanjT the bold refrain. 
Blades flashed from their scabbards long- 
Calm the singer, clear the song; 
Pressed they close, a frenzied band — 
Keen his ear and sure his hand. 
Sent he then a mighty chord, 
Oscillating through the hord. 
Shields with rampant beasts enriched, 
Rang like tuning forks bewitched, 
Every breast-plate gan to sing 
Like some weird enchanted thing. 
Pulsing to the strange refrain 
Til they rent their bolts in twain; 
Blades were shriven in the sheath. 
Lances trembled like a leaf, 
Nodes and segments smote their ears. 
Swayed the antlered chandeliers. 
Dishes rattled, tables groaned, 
Walls and timbers creaked and moaned; 



u 



High and low, and great and small, 
Fled in terror from the hall, 
Vibrant tones isochronous. 
Rightly used can raise a muss. 

Where the silken cloth was laid, 
Peacocks were with tails displayed, 
"Rare this feast of chivalry. 
Sooth, 'tis good enough for me." 
Then the harper made to sit 
And discuss the dainty bit. 
While he yet enjoyed the bird, 
"Make way for the king!'' was heard. 
Greased, the harper, cheek and jowl. 
Stood up with his face a-scowl, 
"Nay be seated," said the king, 
"I would fain discuss a wing 
And some matters I have heard. 
Without broidery of word. 



}2 



Know I of the power you sway 
Over iron and over clay, 
Of the magic in your strings 
That could make and unmake kings, 
Only let your harp be still, 
Sooth ril make you what you will; 
Raise you to a high estate. 
Give you tapestries and plate. 
Give you robes as rich as mine. 
Give you cellarers and wine. 
Honey from the royal hives; 
Give you lands, and give you tithes. 
Teach no prentice hand the power. 
These, and more, will be your dower. 
When you play at my command 
Let it be with bridled hand. 
Let the magic of your strings 
Sway emotions, but not things. 
Let it make the heart beat glad. 



J3 



Let it make us passing sad, 
Let it stir the valiant breast, 
Let it soothe the babe to rest; 
That is all--yet by the bye 
You may let the lover sigh, 
Keep all else within thy brain, 
There to seek the dust again." 

v^ tP* w^ ^* 

Duly was the compact signed. 
Duly hydromeled and wined. 
Now a song will make us glad. 
Or in turn we're passing sad. 
Stirs it now the valiant breast, 
Soothes it also babes to rest. 
Lovers sigh a goodly store. 
Only this and nothing more. 
Tho' we compass land and main. 
Weigh the planets to a grain. 
Chain the lightning to our needs, 



t4 



Time the faintest star that speeds, 
Still we never lift the veil 
Drawn by Guthrum's Nightingale. 






15 



THE LOG OF THE 
GOOD SHIP NOD jIt 




|HE log of the good ship Nod I ween 
Is the fairest log I know; 
It's written in dew. 

On the misty blue 

Of the pages of long ago. 

Only the eyes of a child may read, 

And only a child may go, 

The mariner bold 

Is a three year old. 

And the sailors are made of dough. 

The town of Good Night lies far astern. 

The Island of Dreams ahead. 

The binnacle light 

Is a fire fly bright. 

And the cargo is gingerbread. 



)6 



Swung in a golden hammock of dreams, 

We would cruise for evermore; 

But there comes a day 

When she sails away, 

And alas, we are left on shore. 

Aye, aye, the log of the good ship Nod 

Is the fairest log I know; 

It's written in dew. 

On the misty blue 

Of the pages of long ago. 



J7 



WISH I WUZ A 
BOY AG'IN Jt 




[IMES that's nowadays ain't those 
'At's gone by, as we'uns knows, 
Good old days when you an' me 

Wuz light o' heart as youngsters be; 

There's a change somewhere that's true — 

Maybe Bill, it's me an' you. 

I git thinkin' sometimes, thin 

I wish I wuz a boy ag'in. 

I kin see us just as plain, 

We'uns goin' down ther lane 

With er hook an' line an' pole, 

Bound fer our old fishin' hole. 

Where we'd fish a little, thin 

Lay around an' talk ag'in; 

Stretch ourselves out on the grass, 

Watch th' butterflies 'at pass. 

Bees an' beetles droning by 

Kinder lazy, an' ther sky 

Jist as blue as blue kin be. 



}8 



Stretchin' fur as you kin see, 
Till it meets th' daisy plot 
Way down in th' pasture lot. 
There's a music in th' air 
'At you don't hear everywhere, 
Sort o' hummin', peaceful, low; 
Don't know jist what makes it tho'. 
Sometimes sounds as if th' breeze 
Wuz a whispering to th' trees. 
Or a rustlin' of th' grass 
That perhaps wont let it pass. 
Anyway it's soft an' low. 
You've a-heered it too, I know- 
Sometimes hear it now — an' thin 
Wish I wuz a boy ag'in. 






J9 



I'M LONGING FOR 
MY BABY DREAMS 




'M loiii^in^ for my childhood's home, 
I'm loiitjiiiiT for my trundle bed; 
Beneath the old blue counterpane, 
I loni^ ai»ain to tuck my head. 

I loni» to feel my mother's hand 
Steal gently round my own wee palm; 
I lonii; to hear her sini^in^ low. 
As soft as any angel's psalm. 

I loni» to sleep as sleeps a child. 
Sprite of the sifting soft moonbeams 
Touch with your starry wand my lids, 
I'm loni;ini» for my baby dreams. 



^ q^ ^ 



20 



THE JH Jt Jt 
OLD CLOCK 




EACON Skinner's clock was tall- 
Straij^ht sot up ag'in the wall, 
An* I had to get a chair 

For to see the sojers there. 

What came out and marched before 

A captain who popped out a door 

Every time she struck, an* thin 

Turned and popped right back ag'in. 

I was just a little mite 

And that clock was greatest sight, 

Sottin* up ag'in the wall 

Mighty fine and mighty tall; 

And the sojers what marched by. 

In their red coats caught my eye 

In a way that sojers now 

Couldn't cotch it anyhow. 

Well, our folkses moved away. 

And the years lagged on 7ore they 

Went back visitin' some aunts, 



2\ 



Takin' me and the fust chance. 
Fast as my two legs could race 
I just made for Skinner's place, 
For to feast my eyes once more 
On them sojers— but the floor 
Or th' ceiling had grow'd small, 
An' the clock ag'in the wall 
Wa'n't so shiny, and my face 
Reached up to the captain's place— 
And the sojers wa'n't just right, 
Wa'n't so purty or so bright. 
And I didn't need a chair 
For to see 'em marchin' there. 
I was disappointed some— 
But I watched 'em when they come, 
'Cause they was old friends of mine; 
And altho' they didn' shine 
In their red coats, and wa'n't tall. 
And the clock ag'in the wall 



22 



Kinder dwindled and looked sad 
'Long with me, still I was glad 
For to see 'em once ag'in 
Marchin' roun' an' roun'— an' thin 
Ma o' visitin' got through 
And went home— and I went too. 
Years an' years had passed away— 
I was gettin' on and gray, 
When ag'in in Skinner's hall 
The old clock ag'in the wall 
Met my sight— I'm sorry now 
I a-seed it-'cant tell how 
Somethin' tother wa'n't just right. 
Didn't 'mount to shucks in height, 
Sojers, little bits o' wood, 
Squeakin' round, the captain stood 
'Thout his arms before the door, 
Trying as in days of yore 
To look prim, but lost the knack— 



23 



Wish I hadn't a'gone back, 
And could 'member it so tall 
Sottin' up ag'in the wall. 



f*t 



24 




CRUISE OF ^ .^ ^ 
THE DREAM SHIP 



[OME get aboard my sailor man, 
The ship of Dreams is on the tide; 
She's tugging at her anchor chain — 
Come get aboard and take a ride. 

We'll cruise upon a wondrous sea 
Where ever fair the winds prevail, 
With star dust rippling in our wake 
And moonbeams bellying the sail. 

Sweet Candy Land is on our beam, 
We sight a Noah's ark ahead. 
The Pea Nut Islands come to view 
Just off the shores of Gingerbread. 

Come get aboard my sailor man. 
We'll swiftly sail across the night--- 
Towards Tomorrow's shores until 
The captain sights the Morning Light. 



25 



Far on the misty sea of time 
Our ships are restinj^ in the lees; 
Full freighted down with happiness. 
Just waiting for a favoring breeze. 



26 



FIRST LOVE 




IRST lovers a tinj^ling from the toes 
To head, that rushin' comes and j^^oes 
When youVe a-thinkin' of someone 

An' t' other folks is pokin' fun 

At you because they kinder know 

You likes her— well you always go 

Right past her house when t' other way 

Is nearer far— day after day 

YouVe hanging roun' where she's to be 

And meets by accident, and she 

A'knowed it jist as well as you. 

'Twas planned before— they always do, 

An' always did, an' always will 

Act just that way— you courts her till 

You've run th' scale of huskin' bees 

Where you can smack her hard when she's 

A'got the ear o' corn that's red; 

Of dances till you're nearly dead; 

An* singing schools, an' firemen's balls 



27 



An' straw rides when the crisp snow falls; 
An' candy pulls an' quilting bees, 
An' sug'rings off when maple trees 
Are being tapped for sap, an' all 
The things you do from spring to fall. 
An' from the fall to spring ag'in; 
An' then it peters out, grows thin 
An' dies away— old days that seem 
Just like a sort o' faded dream. 
Perhaps yoji meet her nowadays. 
She's Mrs. Farmer Jones— you says 
'Thout thinkin' of the long ago: 
"Good mornin' mam, 'bout time to sow," 
Or "How's your yearlings coming on— 
An' so this big chap's your son John." 

V V V 



28 



THE 'POINTMENT 




just heard down at post office 
Some news from Washington— 
There's been a foreign 'pointment made 
For old Jed Billing's son. 
It sort o' knocked me off my pins, 
I'm flabbergasted flat, 
I'm going up to tell the folks- 
How Ma'll laugh at that. 

Why, he's just old Jed Billing s son 
That growed up in this place. 
And don't know peas from pippins — 
We called him pumpkin face. 
And that boy's got a 'pointment, 
I can't believe it's so; 
Why what's he know 'bout anything 
Is what I want to know. 



29 



Jed Billing's son was raised right here 

Down on the lower road, 

And learned the things that my boys learned, 

And knowed just what they knowed; 

And when it come to farming, why 

He couldn't get the hang. 

He up and run away to town 

And wasn't worth a dang. 

Why just a season back or so 
It 'bout appears to me. 
That he was nothing but a kid 
That come up to your knee— 
A common, warty, freckled kid, 
Without no shoes or hat — 
And so he's got a 'pointment, well 
Now Ma'll laugh at that. 



30 



LAYING ^ ^ ^ j« 
FOR THE HUMORIST 




'M laying for the humorist 
That pesters farmer folks 
In illustrated papers and 

Poomatic cycle jokes, 

Because we're from the country, that's 

No sign we aint got sense— 

And when those bloomer girls ride by, 

Go hide behind a fence. 

The Smith girls at the next farm house 

Wear bloomers every day, 

There aint no blooming city girl 

More bloomin'er than they. 

A fellow used to bucking colts 

And plowing stumpy fields. 

Don't find no terrors lurking in 

Them new poomatic wheels; 

And if he's rode an old stone boat 

And hay rakes without falls. 

He'll tackle your velocipede— 



3J 



In boots and overalls. 

So kind o' get it out your head 

That we're afeered o' wheels, 

And all sot dead ag'in 'em, cause 

We aint— the farmer feels 

That wheelmen do a power o good 

A'making better roads. 

And that's a'goin' to help we'uns 

When toting of our loads. 

So when you're riding down our way, 

Don't be afeered to call— 

You're welcome as th' sunshine, and 

There's milk enough for all; 

The latch string's allers hanging out, 

And if you're busted down. 

We'll hitch th' boss and buggy up. 

And tote you back to town. 




32 



BE GLAD J« J« 
YOU'RE POOR 




[E glad youVe poor, the clothes you wear 
Won't look no worse for 'nother tear; 
Be thankful that your good corn cake 
Will never give you pain or ache. 
Be glad you're poor, and save your hairs 
From w^earing off with business cares, 
And fearing banks are going to bust, 
And who the deuce youVe going to trust. 
Be glad you're poor — no relative 
Will grudge the time you're going to live. 
Don't always worry 'bout your lot. 
Give thanks for what you havn't got. 
And be content with what you get 
And let the wealthy fume and fret. 
Then when financial blizzards come 
And banks go tumbling round like fun, 
And stocks and bonds go galley west — 
Just thank your stars you don't invest. 
Go prop your legs up at the store 
And smoke— and then be glad you're poor. 



33 



YOU'RE WEALTHY 




|ON'T worry just because you're poor, 
If you were rich you'd worry more— 

That's cert'in. 
You get your three square meals a day, 
You couldn't eat more anyway— 

'Thout hurtin'. 

Don't think the fates have been unkind. 
There's many millionaires you'll find— 

Complainin'. 
There's lots of men -with so-called means. 
Who'd like to wear your old blue jeans— 

'Thout strainin'. 

You fellows in your working clothes 
Can shake 'em when the whistle blows— 

'Thout frettin'. 
The boss with dollars to your dime, 
You bet he's working overtime— 

And sweatin'. 



34 



There's them who'd give up every sou 
If they could stand up strong like you— 

And healthy. 
You've got your children and your wife, 
You've love and happiness and life — 

You're wealthy. 



« V V 



35 




WE'LL HANG OUR ^ J* 
STOCKINGS IN A ROW 



|HE backlog glows, and sings and cheers, 
Companion of the whitening years; 
The firelight flickers on the floor, 

I'm dreaming Tm a boy once more. 

Old hearth, a lifelong friend you've been, 

Unchanging since the days within 

The circle of your genial glow. 

We hung our stockings in a row. 

The mantel hasn't changed a jot 
Since 1 was just a little tot; 
The old clock standing 'gainst the wall- 
Is just as straight and just as tall, 
And nothing's changed at all but me; 
The room is as it used to be 
When in the golden long ago. 
We hung our stockings in a row. 



36 



The friends of old have gone their ways, 
Or passed beyond, these many days; 
The ties that bind me to the past 
Are dream'like fading out at last. 
Tho' years the memories erase, 
Ah! me, they never can efface 
The joy when in the long ago. 
We hung our stockings in a row. 

And as I dream, I fail to hear 
The tiny footsteps stealing near. 
Till someone climbs up in my chair 
And slyly tweaks my nose and hair; 
''Wake up. Grandpa— I do believe 
That youVe forgotten Christmas Eve." 
"Forgotten— bless you— won't we tho*, 
Just hang our stockings in a row?** 

J^ i*i i^i 



37 



THE RAIN 




|UT my dormer window hazy, 
Lie the stream and meadow lazy, 
Soft the gentle rain-drops falling- 
Back to life the greenlands calling. 
Subtle as the hours descending, 
Distant tree and hilltop blending, 
Gracious as the love eternal— 
Ever fragrant and supernal. 






3S 



FAME 

^* ^* c^* 




HE birds sing sweetest in the deepest glade- 
Untrodden paths invite the fairest flowers, 
The roughest stone the purest gem has made, 
The faintest star could swing this world of ours. 
Seek not for genius in the gilded halls, 
Fame comes at last to those who've sorest wept; 
A sage may dwell within a hovel's walls— 
The King of Kings first in a manger slept. 
Heed not a lowly birth, or humble home, 
The sails ne'er feel the breeze until unfurled, 
The flame of genius flutters on unknown — 
Then meteor-like, illumines all the world. 



^SV «^ «^ 



39 



SUPPLICATION 




HERE Thy feet have trod the way 
Footsore press my steps to-day. 
Know'st Thou well the brake and fen; 
Son of God, have mercy then! 

Passed Thou on with wondrous sight, 
Faltering I with failing light; 
Know'st Thou well my feeble ken; 
Son of God, have mercy then! 

Oft Thou'st felt the winds blow chill, 
Drawn Thy mantle closer still. 
Poor and scant my raiment's been. 
Son of God, have mercy then! 



40 



Toiled Thou here for daily bread. 
Rude the place to rest Thy head, 
Know'st Thou well the throes of men; 
Son of God, have mercy then! 



t t t 



41 



THE t^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
MOHAWK VALLEY 




JHE sleepy cattle slowly plod 
The trails that long stilled feet have trod, 
The ploughman's fresh-turned furrows trace 

The relics of a bygone race. 

Where once they lived, loved, hoped and died, 

New lives, new loves, new hopes abide; 

And when these, too, have passed away. 

So on forever, and for aye. 

The hills tower on, life's nodes repeat- 
Each lays its stratum at their feet. 

These peaceful trees, oft heard the sound. 

Of warring bowstrings twanging round. 

Their leaves exhale as years increase — 

The incense of the pipe of peace. 

The silver-threaded valley lies 

Serene and calm beneath the skies. 

The birds and sunshine linger there. 

And sweet content fills all the air; 

Care stops a little while to play 

A-down the Mohawk Valley way. 



42 



AN ^ ^ Jt ^ ^ ^ 
OVEN COURTSHIP 




ROM foot to head 
Just ginger bread, 
A doughty boy was he; 

A pat— a twirl— 

A cooky girl 

Was there for company. 

"I feel," said he, 

"You're made for me/' 

"I'm all undone," she said. 

As from her face 

She brushed a trace 

Of flour, and turned quite red. 

Her simple gown 
Was getting brown 
And gold gleamed in her hair. 
"You're stirring me 
Far more," said he. 
Than did the cook out there." 



<( 



43 



She felt aglow 

From tip to toe 

So nice and warm all through. 

*'Dear boy, I feel 

IVe lived a deal— 

Tve changed since I met you/ 

And then her wee 
Warm hand took he, 
And pressed it to his lips; 
They made no sound 
Till both were browned 
Way to their finger tips. 

"'Twill never do 

We are so new 

My nose we'll dent no doubt." 

Now in his face 

You'll see a trace. 

It never quite came out. 



44 



"A kiss/' he said; 
She turned her head 
And sweetly gave him one, 
And then— "Oh my! 
Good bye, good bye 
Fve got to go, Vm done/* 

She did'nt though 

He held her so. 

"Sakes on us!'' laughed the cook, 

"It beats old Ike 

How natur'l like 

Them cooky folks can look." 






45 



THE DREAM 

•#• O* fa fa" i^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ 




|HE fled as I waked from my dreaming 

to-night, 

And nothing was there but the mellow 

moonlight; 

The breath of a rose, the sweet scent of her hair. 

Seemed to linger a moment, then nothing was there. 

The kiss that she gave me is moist on my brow. 
The love that she plighted is thrilling me now; 
Her voice fell, a moment since, sweet on my ear. 
Now only the call of the night bird I hear. 

The touch of her hand is still warm on my own. 
But where, in all unmeasured space, has she flown; 
The breath of a rose, the sweet scent of her hair. 
Seemed to linger a moment, then nothing was there. 



fr fr V 



u 



I'll have no loves on distant stars 
While tender hearts forsooth abound, 
Why reach to pluck the lofty rose 
When fragrant ones grow near the ground. 



47 



WHERE 




I HE stones that note each crumbling heap 



Cast lengthening shadows o'er the 
ground; 

Grim dials that mark the end of time 
For those who sleep so still around. 

I see the nascent atoms free 
The mouldering fetters of the grave- 
To seek affinities anew 
In elements they blindly crave. 

They grasp the ivy on the tower 
Or eager spring to meet the dew; 
Some nestle in the lily's cup, 
Some live in dull cold rock anew. 

The light that in some bright eye dwelt 
Is prisoned in the opal's heart; 
The breath that some sweet lips exhaled 
The roses perfume forms a part. 



48 



The recreated clay lives on, 
The empty grave is cold and dark; 
But where in all unmeasured space 
Is w^and'ring now life's fitful spark? 






49 



THE ji ji tii ji jt 
DEACON'S FIRSTLY 




|E world am full ob people, what's 
A-tryin' all de while 
To alter things about, to fit 
Dar own pekooler style. 

Dey's wasting precious moments, an' 
Dey lose de joyful sound 
Ob glad hosannas ringing all 
De time, an' all around. 

For when de robin's singing 
Yo ken open wide your throat. 
An' spostulate till doomsday, an' 
He wouldn't change a note. 



50 



An' when de beaver's building 
It am nonsense to persume, 
Dat argufying's going to make 
Him add annoder room. 

An' dars ol mars woodchuck 
A chucking all de day, 
Dar kaint no resolutin' make 
Him chuck no odder way. 

De Lawd, he teached de robin an' 
De beaver what they know, 
He set the woodchuck chuckin', an' 
He started me an' yo'. 



5} 



He made de world, an* put us dar, 
An' sot us going right, 
An* if he wants to change us, why- 
He'll do it over night. 




52 



NOW DON'T 

(^W f^V |^« i^v^v^v^v 




JOW don't commence to alter things, 
The old Earth in her orbit swings 
You several million miles away 
From where you left off yesterday. 

Those fellows of the Miocene 

Who thought they ran the whole machine, 

Are just a lot of early bones 

Stuck fast in tertiary stones. 

The bosses of Primevalites 
Who ate the toothsome trilobites, 
And dined upon devonian eels, 
No doubt orated after meals. 

Don't think you're springing something new, 
There are no brand new thoughts in you; 
The same old lines of stunts were done 
In B C fourteen forty-one. 



53 



Don't buck against the things that are— 
Your pull don't reach the nearest star. 
Don't fret the planets in their flight, 
They'll get around on time, all right. 

The old World's laughing at your chin, 
She knows full well you just got in. 
Before you know what she's about— 
Why bless your soul, you just get out. 






54 



REFORM 




E want 

Reform, 

And want it bad— 
That is 
We want 
It good, egad! 
We do 
Not know 

Just what we'd like- 
But want 
Reform 

The guns to spike. 
Of those 
Who laugh 
And wink a wink 
At what 
We think. 

We think, we think! 
A score of different ways we have 



55 



Of bringing this reform about, 
But marry sir, we can't 
Reform 
Each other. 

There's the rub, no doubt- 
Each one of us has his scheme planned 
For turning 

Upside down this land. 
He knows that his way 
Is the best, 
But strange, he can't 
Reform 
The rest. 
It's tough to think 
Our brothers 
Scorn, 

To follow, when 
We toot 
Our horn, 



56 



When sixty ounces make a ton, 
When up the hills the rivers run, 
When bullets, small, project the gun; 
When puny planets swing the sun, 
When sea is land 
And land is sea — 
The world will then 
Reform-MAYBE! 



57 



TWIT TOO 




''M just a little bird, and shy, 
Each day I see a man nearby, 
Twit too, he's worn; twit too, no rest- 
He's looking in his treasure chest. 

Each day the man adds to his store. 
He rubs his hands and goes for more. 
Twit too, more notes; twit too, more gold— 
The man is looking wan and old. 

Ah! but he loves that wondrous chest, 
It almost makes me hate my nest. 
Twit too, life work; twit too, ah! me- 
lt must be very fine to see. 

I havn't seen the man to-day, 
I hear somehow he passed away. 
Twit too, what's that; twit too, what's wrong- 
He didn't take the chest along. 



58 



And now I needn't fear surprise, 
ril take a peep, and feast my eyes. 
Twit too, how queer; twit too, just bags- 
Some metal, and some paper rags! 



^^, -S^ 1^, 



59 



PRESENTATION 
OF THE BRUSH 




\HETHER be it silk or bristle, 
Sable red, or down of thistle, 
Tasseled corn, or hair of camel, 
Fur of mastodon or mammal- 
Hide of anything that rambles. 
Hair of anything that ambles; 
By a master truly pointed— 
By a prentice hand disjointed. 
You can use it, for we know, sir! 
You can make the old thing go, sir! 
True, the trick lies in the digit, 
On the stick that makes it fidget. 
Thus we send you this one, knowing 
You will set its bristles flowing 
With the dripping sunset yellow. 
With the sifting moonbeams mellow. 
You will make its fibers tingle 
With the hues of glade and dingle. 



60 



You will make the canvass drizzle, 
Make it freeze, or make it sizzle, 
Limning every last sensation 
Found throughout the whole creation. 







a 




1 HE «^ «^ ^ <^ J^ «M 
PHANTOM PARTY 



JOUSED me from sleep, some wailing loon, 
I read your message in the moon— 
Ere sinks it's rim, with cobwebs hung, 

Into the marsh from whence it sprung. 

Wouldst have me leave this joyous pit. 

These depths where merry shadows flit; 

This home where rests a genial gloom. 

These caverns swept by witches broom. 

These halls that know no human wight— 

To sally forth at candle light. 

And meet five dozen specters there. 

When truth to tell, Tve naught to wear. 

My winding sheet is out of style, 

IVe really lost my ghastly smile. 

I can't assume that vacant stare, 

I miss my former ghostly air. 

Tm sure my cowl will never fit — 

But let me sit, and think a bit. 

Ah! there's that specter o'er the way, 



62 



Who just arrived the other day. 
His winding sheet is just the mode- 
rn waft myself to his abode, 
And borrow it—that will be rum, 
Await me, shades, I Come, I COME! 



^ 



63 



PURE JOY 



You may sing of the bliss 

When first kissing a kiss, 

Of the joy when first taking to boots, 

Of the jovial dash 

Felt in a mustache — 

When displaying its tenderest shoots. 

Of the sensation, when, 

With a sword or a pen, 

You have put the whole world in a trance. 

But the joy of all joys 

That can come to us boys — 

Is the joy of our first pair of pants. 



64 



IF I WERE ^ 
BORN AGAIN 




'F I were born again, 
What would I do— 

If I were born again? 
Would I the same old ties renew, 
The same old reckless paths pursue— 

And then a few, 
If I were born again. 

If I were born again, 
What would I do — 

If I were born again? 
Would I my present faults eschew 
And travel with the chosen few— 

That would be blue. 
If I were born again. 



65 



If I were born again, 
What would I do-- 

If I were born again? 
Vd do the same as you would do, 
Just do the same old things anew- 

That's what I'd do, 
If I were born again. 




66 



JOHNNY'S BIRTHDAY 




llRTHDAY party- 
Johnny's seven. 
Cards sent out— eight 

To 'leven. 

Kids all sizes 

Come and eat, 

Johnny's stuffed with 
candy sweet; 

Fruit and shortcake, 
Puddings, pies, 

Jam and sweetmeats. 
To his eyes. 

Same day next year- 
Johnny's eight. 

Dines behind the 
Golden gate. 




67 



Words are as stones cast thoughtlessly, 
The circles widen o'er the sea— 
Until they reach the farthest shore, 
Then turn and seek us out once more. 



68 



A TOAST- WOMAN 

^V ^^V i^V (^V ^V ^V ^V f^V ^V ^9 ^V i^W 




N all her ways, 
In all her days, 

Our admiration and our praise- 
Are due her. 

In pinafore. 
In life's three score. 
Our willing task is to adore— 
And woo her. 

She is the wine, 
Of life's springtime. 
That sets our every thought to rhyme- 
Caress her. 



69 



As years increase, 
She brings us peace, 
Her ministrations never cease- 
God bless her. 



70 



MY OLD FRIEND 
PETE LEROUX ^ 




|NE night las' fall down hon de ma'sh, 
We sing hon de canoe, 
She's got some good jim dandy voice, 
My or fren Pete Leroux. 

She sing lak la belle chasonette, 
I'm dreaming, nom de dieu, 
I tank I hear an ol' goose honk, 
Mon jee, says Pete Leroux. 

Den I wak' up an' look at Pete, 
I guess dat dream come true; 
His eye she shine lak lightning bug, 
Dat's goose, says Pete Leroux. 

An' den de ol' goose honk ag'in. 
An' Pete she's honking too— 
She's got some good jim dandy honk. 
My ol' fren Pete Leroux. 



i\ 



De goose she's coming down de wind, 
She's come lak hurry too — 
I lif my gun an' make a wink 
At ol' fren Pete Leroux. 

An' den I bang, an' six big goose 
Fall right hon de canoe— 
You don't believe, you go an' ask 
My ol' fren Pete Leroux. 





72 



JUST ONE YEAR 
SINCE JULIE GO^ 




miss my Julie since dat day 
Pete Cuzeno tak' her away; 
I nevair t'ink it hurt me so, 
It's just one year since Julie go. 

We used to sail off on de bay 
And fish de summer days away; 
I can no fish some more I know, 
It's just one year since Julie go. 

My heart she be one great big sigh, 
I can't forget her if I try; 
The day's so long, the night so slow. 
It's just one year since Julie go. 



73 



Next spring I build me nodder boat, 
She be de finest t'ing dat float, 
ril get up race with Cuzeno, 
It's just one year since Julie go. 



74 




LEROUX'S GARCON 



^E have some pretty dandy time 
Way down here hon de bay; 
My leetle boy, she's six year old, 
Mak* sunshine all de day. 

Sometime' we go out hon de boat 
An' row up to de store- 
He put his leetle han' on mine 
An' tink he pull de oar. 

He knows to shoot hes pa's big gun; 
I hoi' it cross my knee- 
He tak' good aim an' let her fly- 
Shoot knot hole off de tree. 

An' when I go to lumber camp 
He write me every day, 
Such funny leetle scrawl— but den 
Hes pa know what he say. 



75 



One day we fish an' get some bite, 
He pull an' nevair flinch— 
Den I pull, too— we get catfish 
Weigh 'leven-pound'— two inch. 

4^^- ^^^ ^^T" 



76 



'Tis time that draws the sweetest note 
From out the viol's mellow throat, 
The ear grows keener till it hears 
The harmony that moves the spheres. 



LpIC. 



77 




LIU JOE 



IETE'S growing old. Sometimes I feel 
I ain't much good but fish for eel. 
I 'member when dis marsh was lake 

An' moonbeams dance in pon' boat's wake. 

I 'member when no house for mile' 

'Cept few ole shanty by Presque Isle. 

Dat be the time when Pete be smart 

And know de muskrat trick by heart; 

An' when two duck come all alone 

I jes bang once; she fall lak stone. 

But time is change; Pete los' her eye; 

I can't shoot one duck now, I try; 

But dats all right, I got my Joe. 

You hear about dat boy? What, No? 

One night win' she blow, blow, blow— 

Lak nevaire blow before, I know; 

An' some big boat jes off de shore 

Go down, an' don't come up no more. 

She all bus' up an' den nex' day 



78 



Some t'ings be floatin' Hon de bay. 
I tink I go an' save some wood, 
An' maybe sometin' else dat's good; 
An' dat's de way I find my Joe. 
He's big boy now, dat's long time 'go: 
De probate court try take from me, 
'Cause lil' Joe have propertee. 
But lil' Joe she hug me tight; 
I say you tak him now you fight; 
An' den de court she swear my han' 
An' guess I mak' good guardian. 
I teach him fish lak anyting; 
An' how to set de trap in spring, 
An' how to hunt, an' how to row, 
An' how to mak' de pon' boat go; 
An' now two duck come all alone 
My Joe bang once—she fall lak stone. 



79 



IF «^ t^ i^ 




If I were master of the wealth 

Deep hidden in the mines of earth, 
I'd shape a crown of purest gold — 

Enriched with gems of priceless worth; 

Its every stone would scintillate 

To match the lustre of her hair. 

I'd proudly lay it at her feet 

And go for more— my ladye fair. 

If I could mount the radiant morn, 

And speed into the golden East, 

Where Persian marts display their wares-- 

A silken oriental feast. 

I'd cull from them the choicest stuffs. 

The richest weaves, and rarest dyes. 

To grace my ladye's radiant form. 

And vie the sparkle of her eyes. 



80 



If I could scale the mountain peak, 
Where free, the sleek angora roams; 
If I could ford the forest stream 
Where busy beavers build their homes; 
If I could tread the tiger's trail 
Beneath the tropic's torrid heat— 
Td bring to her the rarest skins. 
On which to rest her dainty feet. 

But as I neither rule the earth, 
Nor have the power to mount the morn; 
And never hope to have a hand 
In seeing lordly tigers shorn; 
And as those things I wish above 
Are only dreamings in my head— 
I wish her health, I wish her wealth, 
I wish her every joy, instead. 



8) 



An eon hence, the spade of Time, 
Will turn my moulVing bones to view, 
1^ For sages of some race to read 
The prehistoric tale anew. 



82 



INDEX. 



Page. 

The King and the Harper, . . 9 

The Log of the Good Ship Nod, . 16 

Wish I Wuz a Boy Ag'in, . . 18 

Tm Longing for My Baby Dreams, 20 

The Old Clock, .... 21 

Cruise of the Dream Ship, . 25 

First Love, 27 

The 'Pointment, .... 29 

Laying for the Humorist, . . 31 

Be Glad YouVe Poor, ... 33 

You're Wealthy, .... 34 

We'll Hang Our Stockings in a Row, 36 

The Rain, 38 

Fame, 39 

Supplication, 40 

The Mohawk Valley, ... 42 
An Oven Courtship, . . .43 



Page. 

The Dream, 46 

Where? 48 

The Deacon's Firstly, ... 50 

Now Don't, 53 

Reform, 55 

Twit Too, 58 

Presentation of the Brush, . . 60 
The Phantom Party, . . . .62 
Pure Joy, . . . . . 64 
If I Were Born Again, . . .65 
Johnny's Birthday, ... 67 

A Toast— Woman, . . . .69 
My Old Friend Pete Leroux, . 71 

Just One Year Since Julie Go, . 73 

LeRoux's Garcon, .... 75 

Lil' Joe, 78 

If, 80 



Jan - 26 lOOl 



t 1909 



